Cumbersome
by Velasa
Summary: A very dark vignette from Piccolo's mind, along the lines of "Ribbons of Blush and Indigo" but seperate from it. Rated R for dark themes.


Cumbersome, by Velasa.

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This piece came mostly as a single massive stream of words while I was running through a printed copy of "Ribbons of Blush and Indigo" trying to rewrite the poor thing into something decent. I had recently started listening to Seven Mary Three and "Cumbersome" bashed me upside the head as I was trying to pry into Pic's headspace to get to work. What followed was really much darker than what I intended to use in Ribbons, but I still liked it enough to add to it at times and finally end up putting on here.

R for some heavily dark themes and personal violence. Don't worry kids, I'm not suicidal. Far from it- I like writing. This is just where the man's head was when I got to work. I'll keep working on fixing Ribbons separately, and while I want it to be more of an emotional impact... this isn't quite what I want it to be. Enjoy.

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You wouldn't believe just how much that woman could cry. You think it would be able to stop after a few minutes... but it just keeps _going_ and _going_, by the gods...

I'm a callous son of a bitch. I'm self centered and obnoxious and I hate everyone. I _really _hate everyone right now.

Married. Gods.

He's getting married.

I'm not enjoying this one bit, this bitter taste in my mouth that pulls my lips so sharply in a scowl- it's the kind of fury I felt as a hatchling, when Son taunted my every waking breath. It's not Son now- it's that damned little bitch girl with the blue eyes, the Idiot's daughter hanging on his arm and his every word, laughing in that disgusting little twitter. Every time I see her I bite back the urge to reach out and smash her head into her torso, pop it like a grapefruit.

I hate her. I haven't hated someone like this in years- since I'd barely hatched. But this is different. I'm not a child, just a grown man acting like a peevish child without the benefit of youthful enthusiasm and madness-inspired energy. I know how very much I am _not_ invincible. Young as I am for my race, I feel like an old man for this utter... helplessness that weighs down on my shoulders and drags my chin to my chest, digs my claws deep into the stone, dragging them out in long furrows and clenches my jaw to bite back this... hole in me.

I can see it in the way he looks at her.

He loves her. Plain as day. I can't imagine why the fuck he ever could, but not even my colossal stubbornness can push it off, keep my gut from dropping out of my feet to somewhere in the earth below them.

He lights up when he sees her. It sounds lame as all hell in writing but it's true. He smiles more, moves more gracefully, extends more of that exasperating kindness. The way he touches her hands almost undoes me. It makes me just want to end this, now, and get off of this hole.

I want him to touch me like that. Look at me like that. He's never going to. And I want to die.

I'm going to, soon. I've been staring at my claws for hours, flicking balls of chi and rolling them between my fingers fully aware of the exact strength I need to get through my heart or my head, whatever's necessary. I know just where to put it to make it end before my natural healing can get in the way. It's just what I'm to leave first that holds me back. If I should say anything.

Maybe, if I went to him now. Told him everything. Told him what I'm going to do. Maybe he'll change his mind. Remember all we had, remember our connection, how he use to be so close to me, how to sense each other. Touch me like he touches her, look at me in the same way he looks at her.

Gods, who am I kidding. Kid sees me as a father. And he's not gay. He would never do that.

Maybe I could make him.

I'm not stronger than him, but more disciplined. He'd never see me coming, I could lock him down before he could bring his guard up- I could take him. Right then and there- he'd be too stunned to hit me if I used the tricks I know from the old god in the back of my head to restrain his powers. It's tempting, so tempting... just the thought of it starts to affect me. I wonder what his skin would feel like, just how tight he'd be, how much he would struggle and how it would feel when he gave in...

I disgust myself sometimes, you know.

That's why I need to die as soon as possible. I could never hurt him in my right mind. But if I watch him go through with this wedding I will most definitely not be in my right mind, and I can't let myself hurt him. I would never forgive myself. I can't forgive myself for even letting my thoughts linger on how I could pin him down.

He told me first, you know. Before he told his mother, or brother. Came out to my forest and floated down from the sky beaming in a way that just breaks me to remember. He was so damn excited I half expected him to burst. I don't know what the fuck he wanted me to do... Smile? Congratulate him, say something heartwarming like I was proud of him? Bullshit. The kid should be happy I didn't go throttle her on the spot- I just stared at him with the same blank look that was schooled into me, the same look I always have for everyone else. He almost seemed hurt. But I was too busy trying not to -_scream_-. It was all I could do to restrain myself from saying something I'd regret, or collapsing, or hitting him, or all of them at once. He left happy enough after I muttered some flat comment to just get him to go away.

I've spent the time after that planning just when and where to kill myself. It's what's best for everyone. I'm obsolete anyway, in this world full of people so far beyond me I can't even begin to fathom their powers. I don't even serve the purposes of babysitter or dragonball provider. Dende has that wrapped up. The kid will do well on his own.

Basically... I'm expendable. And a danger to the man I love.

I leave the hills overlooking the little house where Gohan's mother cries on his shoulder at the joyous little shitty news that he's marrying someone who seems just like her. She's happy. I'm beyond feeling at this point. I can feel the weight of the little sword he abandoned in that desert too long ago in my hands, and I'll pick the time soon. I just need a few more days to see him. See the way he smiles, how his eyes light up, how his hair falls in his eyes.

I'll pick a time. No one is allowed to hurt him. And that includes me.


End file.
